THE LIFE OF A BEE 



laid hold of it and pulled it with all his might, and the 

 Queen began to cry with pain, when Crip rushed to 

 the rescue. 



A terrific battle ensued. I tried to help, and did 

 seize the vicious bee by one wing, only to be kicked 

 off- But Crip had grappled him in his vise-like mandi- 

 bles, and I saw it was a battle to the death. Over and 

 over they whirled, finally to fall to the bottom of the 

 hive still fighting. I followed as fast as I might, and 

 when I reached where they lay they had ceased to 

 struggle both were dead. 



A lance wound in his heart had finished my beloved 

 friend. 



"Crip Crip!" I cried aloud; but got no answer. 

 One little foot moved a few times, then was still. 



Almost simultaneously an alarm sounded. The im- 

 postor had disappeared. 



I shook with an unrestrained emotion. "We are 

 saved," I thought. 



"Where is our Queen? The Queen is gone!" they 

 called. 



A wild rush of bees set the hive in pandemonium. 

 Finally one began to cry: "Here she is she is dead." 



"Dead dead!" rose loud over the place. 



They were wailing over the lifeless body of the 

 impostor, while I stood broken-hearted beside my 

 Crip, who, at the sacrifice of his life, had redeemed that 

 of the colony. 



